


Unbound

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: Tumblr Prompt Requests [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Banshee Lydia Martin, Beta Jackson, Derek Hale & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia and Stiles are Siblings, M/M, Master/Slave, Mild Language, Power Dynamics, Protective Siblings, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Talk of Dubious Consent, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Society has fallen to give way to werewolves brandishing humans as prized slaves. With Lydia and Stiles fallen into the middle of the slave trade, they find that not all werewolves are as they seem.</p><p>Prompt: "Would you consider writing a Lydia/Parrish fic (Or Lydia/Jackson or Lydia/Stiles really) in an AU or where slavery is commonplace? And either she gets the boy from a raffle or the boy gets her from an inheritance (up to you) but because Lydia is Lydia she is having none of this crap. It would be up to you how recently they lost their freedom, how the family reacts, how long it takes for the owner to understand, etc."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr to fill a prompt request ([x](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/post/126243965357/do-you-take-requests-if-you-do-would-you)).
> 
> Okay–I am Sterek shipper trash, and I am so sorry, but they wiggled their way in there. I am very interested in the Lydia/Parrish (Marrish) romance, however I haven’t watched any of season 5, (and only the finale of season 4). I didn’t feel comfortable writing that because of how little I know about it, so I went with the Lydia/Jackson (Jydia). I really hope this is what you were looking for and I’m sorry if you totally hate it and think Sterek ruined it. But you know … Sterek ruined my life, so it’s fitting that it ruins someone else’s.
> 
>  **Warning:** Mentioned non-con/dub-con (does not actually happen, is discussed by characters as a possibility of happening); deals with Slavery/Master romances and the problem of the power dynamic.

The nation had been split directly down the middle. When it was made known that werewolves lived among the humans, it became common knowledge that they significantly outnumbered the humans. That was how, it is speculated, that the human slavery trade was born. Humans became second-class citizens to the werewolves, and if they were lucky enough, they avoided being forced into slavery. Werewolves began using their human slaves as a way to display wealth and status. The more beautiful and well kept a werewolf’s slaves were, the higher status the werewolf held.

Lydia refused to accept that they were being forced into slavery. Their parents had barely escaped, but the scouting party had captured both Lydia and Stiles. Their family had meant to escape from the country to head out east, where the human slave trade was nonexistent. The only problem was, to cross the border meant treason, and if caught, any human involved was sent directly into slavery.

Stiles had been injured during their capture, protecting Lydia from the scouts. The slave traders decided to hold onto both of them until Stiles and Lydia recovered from their injuries received. The traders were even more pleased when they discovered who Lydia and Stiles were.

Twins born with rare abilities. Lydia had inherited her grandmother’s status as a Banshee, untold powers coursing through her veins. Stiles had inherited their lineage’s tendency to produce Sparks, humans brimming with untapped raw power locked away inside them.

And they were both the prized objects to be auctioned off that night.

~*~

Lydia watched the guards pass by their cells with another person being shoved forward, marched towards the show room. She uncomfortably shuffled, moving against the sad excuse for an outfit they had forced her into. It wasn’t an outfit at all, it was a set of undergarments, a small sheet of see through material wrapped around her body in the form of a robe.

Lydia was actually surprised they had bothered to bathe and clean the humans they prepared to put up on the auction block. They even went the extra mile to put a layer of make up on her to cover the fatigue covering her features.

“This is ridiculous,” Lydia huffed, wiggling in the limited room her cell provided as she tried to get into a more comfortable position.

“You get any closer to the bars and they’ll electrocute you again,” Stiles commented as he remained still with his limbs folded in on himself.

Lydia looked over at her brother, scrunching her nose when she noticed Stiles had on even less than her. They had forced him into a poor excuse of clothing that resembled briefs more than anything else. She frowned when she saw the scar running along his torso where the scouts had wounded him to prevent their escape. “The buyers aren’t going to like it if I’m not lucid,” she bitterly stated.

“Lyds,” Stiles started, looking over at her for the first time. “No matter what happens—if we don’t get sold together—”

“Don’t,” Lydia cut him off. “I’m not going to think of that.”

“You might have to,” Stiles replied. “Look, you’re the smartest person I know. You’re a genius, okay? I know that no matter what happens, you’ll figure a way out of this. I don’t want you to risk that by coming and finding me.”

“Stiles,” Lydia shook her head in disagreement. “I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s not leaving me if I tell you to go,” Stiles replied.

“We’ll get out of this,” Lydia replied. “Somehow.”

As if on cue, the buzzer for their cells went off, signaling the bars opening up. They kept eye contact with one another as they were yanked from the cells.

~*~

Lydia stumbled as she was pushed out into the spot light. She turned her body around to look at the patrons, but the lighting made it too difficult. All she could make out were shadowed figures seated by tables.

Lydia turned in time to catch a falling Stiles, keeping him from sprawling out on the floor. She held his arm, keeping him upright as he winced from the pain in his side. Stiles nodded to her to let her know he was alright, clasping her hand tightly as they waited to be sold off.

“As promised, tonight’s merchandise is very rare to come by,” a voice came on over the speakers. “Twin humans with unique abilities. Purchase 024, the female, is a banshee—a shrieking woman capable of foretelling death, among other future events.”

Lydia tightened her grip on Stiles when she realized that they were referring to her as a single purchase.

“Purchase 025 will be of even more interest to our Alpha patrons,” the voice continued. “025, the male, is one of the last surviving Sparks.”

A murmur moved throughout the crowd in a wave, more of them sitting up straighter in their sudden interest.

“Both 024 and 025 are intact, skin clear of bruises and blemishes. 025’s backside is virginal, which, of course, may be verified upon purchase.”

Lydia refused to let the bile rise into her throat at the thought, holding onto Stiles tighter in an attempt to erase all thoughts of that statement from his mind. She knew it was pointless when Stiles let his head hang low.

“Bidding for individual sale starts with 024 at 1,000,” the voice announced.

Lydia closed her eyes, blocking out the sounds of the patrons bidding for her. She focused on the feeling of Stiles’ hand clasped tightly with hers, grounding her as they started to lose themselves in this nightmare.

“Sold for 18,500,” the voice cut through their thoughts.

Lydia and Stiles both looked at each other at the same time, thankful that the guards were not pulling them apart yet. They knew better than to assume it was a mercy. The werewolves could smell their fear and anxiety, receiving a sick pleasure from knowing that they were bidding for ownership over them.

“Because of 025’s rarer nature, bidding will start at 3,000.”

Stiles closed his eyes, knowing that a higher bidding price was not a mercy either. He was going to go to an Alpha who would use and abuse him for his abilities before tossing him away when they were done.

Stiles’ eyes scanned the crowd, his eyes flickering back and forth from the voices as they called out prices. He began to notice that a majority of the eyes in the darkness were glowing red. His stomach sank, twisting as realization hit him—the werewolves gathered here let Lydia go at a low price because they were here for him.

The price continued to skyrocket, reaching absurd amounts as growls started to be exchanged between Alphas—no doubt from some being forced to drop out with the price range so high.

“25,000,” a voice barked, jumping the price range by five thousand.

“30,000,” a female voice countered.

After a small huff, the first voice replied with, “33,000.”

“Let’s make this short,” the female voice mocked. “50,000. Cash.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped.

“If there are no other bids,” the voice on the speakers stated as the silence grew.

Stiles felt his world suddenly begin to shrink, knowing that there was only one reason for an Alpha werewolf to have that money on hand during a slave trade. The Alpha came here with the sole purpose to purchase Stiles. His mind began to race with thoughts of how she would drain him of everything he had to increase her power before tossing him back into the trade. He would be passed around, completely useless except for the pleasures they could seek from his body. It would also make it nearly impossible for Lydia to ever find him again.

“150,000,” an unknown voice stated from the back.

Uproar fell over the patrons, all of them turning in their seats to look back at the owner of the voice.

“150,000,” the voice over the speakers stuttered. “A new record for this establishment.”

Where the announcer felt proud of such a feat, Lydia and Stiles both felt ill.

“If there are no other bids,” the announcer stated once more. “Sold for 150,000.”

Stiles’ legs grew unsteady, his vision blurring as he grew dizzy. He tried to get himself to the ground, knowing he was about to faint.

“Stiles!” Lydia yelled as he fell forward unconscious, catching him in her arms before he hit the floor. She shoved the guards when they tried to pull them apart, not caring if they threatened to beat her for lashing out at them. “Get away from him!” She yelled, kicking her legs as her body twisted to get out of their grip when they successfully pulled them apart, carrying Stiles off the stage before dragging her after him.

~*~

Lydia waited in the room with the armed guards as she rested Stiles’ head in her lap. She gently brushed her fingers through Stiles’ hair, wishing she could somehow switch places with him. She thought about when they were little and they had dressed as each other for Halloween—Lydia sporting a plaid shirt and converses as Stiles sported a red wig and dress. She released a small, sad laugh that morphed into a sob when she realized that memories were all she might have left of her brother after this night.

Voices were coming from outside the door, some angry where others were calm and collected, pulling Lydia from her thoughts. The discussion began to escalate into loud arguing, then the sound of angered steps stomping away from the door and into the distance.

Lydia was thankful when Stiles started to stir. She helped him sit up, offering him the fresh water they had given them now that they were purchased goods—deserving of such “luxuries.” She held the water bottle for Stiles as she pressed it to his lips, gently brushing her fingertips through his hair as he sipped.

“It’s not a negotiation,” a firm voice stated as the door opened. The man was a little older than Lydia and Stiles, and clearly wealthy enough to be acting as casually as he was in a room with fully armed guards—as if he was untouchable. His suit was a dark charcoal, offset by his calm blue shirt. His hair and beard were trimmed short, both almost the exact same onyx shade of his suit.

“He should have bid on her when she was up for auction,” a young man calmly stated as he walked into the room after the man in the dark suit, shuffling the papers in his hands as he inspected them. He wore a light grey suit, his aviators casually hanging from his breast pocket—suggesting the sun was still shining when he arrived here. His hair was short, and he was clean-shaven, looking almost out of place in his expensive clothes as he looked close to Lydia and Stiles’ age.

“I believe both he and Kali are upset with the outcome of the auction,” the owner of the establishment groveled.

“We won them fairly,” the young man commented.

Lydia scoffed, not caring that all the werewolves were able to hear her contempt for them.

“Is everything in order?” The man in the dark suit asked, his eyes lingering on Stiles as he inspected him from a distance.

“It is,” the young man in the grey suit noted as he folded the sheets in his hands, placing them in his jacket’s inside pocket.

“Good,” the man in the black suit replied. “Tell Ennis and Kali that they should try harder next time.”

“Mr. Whittemore, your purchase is ready to go when you are,” the owner stated as he motioned towards Lydia.

Lydia glared at the young man in the grey suit— _Mr. Whittemore_ —when he looked over at her.

“And as promised, Mr. Hale, an inspection may be made before you accept your purchase’s transfer.”

Mr. Hale—the man in the black suit—ignored the owner as he kept his eyes on Stiles. “Stand up,” he ordered with authority but no threat evident in his tone.

Stiles hesitated, keeping his eyes down.

“I said, stand up,” Mr. Hale repeated, this time his voice firmer.

Stiles immediately rose, allowing Lydia’s grip on his arm to fall from him. He kept silent, knowing that despite it all they could hear the rapid beating of his heart. As Mr. Hale took a step closer to Stiles, his heartbeat began to climb faster. Both he and Lydia had never been as close to a werewolf like Mr. Hale, always taking comfort that they were to remain unharmed until purchases were made. He let him lift his arms, looking at his sides. He winced when Hale pressed a fingertip against his scar, pushing at the healing tissue to gage how old it was.

“What happened?” Hale questioned as he lightened his touch.

“Nothing major, just—”

“I was asking him, not you,” Hale turned his head as he snapped at the owner. He turned his attention back to Stiles. “What happened?”

“It was from the scouts,” Stiles admitted, knowing that there was no point in lying to werewolf, much less to an Alpha. “They wanted to keep Lydia and I from running.”

At the mention of her name, Whittemore turned his attentions back to Lydia.

Hale hesitated, evaluating Stiles’ answer before he nodded in agreement.

“If you would like a private room for a closer inspection,” the owner started.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hale replied, capturing Stiles’ chin in his hand, forcing him to look up at him for the first time. “Are you a virgin?”

Stiles blinked a few times, a small amount of embarrassment welling up inside of him. “Yes,” his voice croaked in response as he held back the tears that burned his eyes, thoughts of his future escalating into vivid images of the Alpha standing in front of him forcing him onto his hands and knees and cruelly having his way with him despite protests.

“Now that wasn’t difficult, was it?” Hale more stated than questioned.

Something in Lydia snapped. They were treating them as objects, as if they weren’t living, breathing people. She knew she should control her anger better, but she couldn’t stop from lashing out.

“You son of a bitch!” Lydia yelled as she tried to claw at Hale, knowing deep down that there was no point to it. He was a werewolf, and if he purchased Stiles for himself then he was most likely an Alpha. He could easily deflect or kill Lydia in one hit.

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled as he grabbed her, pushing her back from Hale. His chin fell from Hale’s hand as he turned his body to shield Lydia from the sudden burst of the guards moving towards them with the intent to discipline them.

They both closed their eyes, waiting for the inevitable electrocution that often followed any defiant outburst from the slaves. But it never came. There was the sound of a skirmish, bodies falling to the floor as weapons clattered. They hesitated, both of them looking at each other before turning their attention to the others. They were both shocked and surprised to see Whittemore standing above a disarmed and injured guard, the other guard unconscious on the floor by Hale. Hale, however, hand his hand— _claws_ —wrapped around the owner’s throat, holding him a few inches off the ground.

“I’m not sure what type of establishment harms other people’s property,” Hale started through clenched teeth, his hand squeezing for an emphasis. “But they are both no longer yours to touch.” He unceremoniously dropped the owner onto the floor, turning his back on him as he ignored the apologies coming from the werewolf.

Lydia clung to Stiles, not wanting to let him go.

“I think we should probably go before someone files a complaint,” Whittemore sighed, straightening out the crinkles in his suit.

Hale nodded in response. He turned his attention back to Stiles and Lydia. “Say goodbye to your sister,” he instructed Stiles.

Stiles froze, turning to look at Lydia.

Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat, not bothering to hide the tears as they stung her eyes. She moved forward into Stiles’ space, clinging to him. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear, closing her eyes as she rested her chin on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I love you too,” Stiles replied, cupping the back of her head with his opened palm as he closed his eyes.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” Lydia almost pleaded, not caring that Whittemore and Hale were watching them—listening to them.

“We’re going to be okay,” Stiles corrected her. “We always are.” He reluctantly pulled back, moving away from Lydia’s hold. He quickly moved forward once more to place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Somehow,” Lydia stated as she closed her eyes, knowing Stiles understood her. He knew she was referring to their conversation before the auction—somehow they would see each other again.

Stiles nodded, moving to stand in front of Hale. He mumbled that he was ready to go, to obediently follow him out of the building.

Lydia took a deep breath as she watched Stiles leave her behind with Whittemore. She refused to cry when Stiles looked back at her, giving her a hopeful smile before disappearing down the hallway. Her eyes wandered over to Whittemore, unable to stop the glare that her features formed.

“After you,” Whittemore offered, gesturing towards the door.

~*~

The days slowly turned into weeks, before giving way to months. Lydia was intrigued that the Whittemore estate held rarely any slaves, only a handful to maintain appearances. All the slaves admitted that their young master, who Lydia discovered was named Jackson, was not the first Whittemore they served. Jackson inherited the slaves from his father, never having purchased a slave before Lydia. And like the other slaves, Lydia was given her own room, for her to keep clean and maintained.

Lydia, however, fought tooth and nail against acting the “appropriate” way, as the other slaves said she should. She dropped more than one of the expensive dishes shoved into her hands. She destroyed more than one load of laundry adding bleach to a load of colors. She even ripped up one of the Whittemore’s prized rose bushes, feigning ignorance.

Lydia was surprised how she continued to go unpunished for her actions. Jackson never raised voice or hand against her for her actions, merely shaking his head in exasperation before muttering about how she wasn’t worth all the hassle. Her opinion of Jackson didn’t change until the day he offered her an official collar, to be worn at all times outside the house like the other slaves did.

“I’m not wearing it,” Lydia plainly stated as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“This isn’t something you can avoid,” Jackson replied.

“And just because it has become custom, I should just accept it?” Lydia grumbled back.

Jackson took a deep breath, releasing a sad sigh before rubbing his hand over his furrowed brow. “I’m trying to protect you,” he finally admitted.

“You’re the one I need protecting from!” Lydia snapped.

“You have no idea what these other werewolves are capable of, do you?” Jackson finally snapped back with equal passion. “Not all werewolves wish to watch humans grovel at their feet. But if I do nothing—if I let you go to them—what do you think would have happened to you? To your brother?”

Lydia’s head perked up, looking at Jackson for the first time. “You don’t get to speak about Stiles,” she tried to hide her tears as she thought about her brother for the first time outside the sanctity of her own room. “You can say you’re better than the others, but you’ve done _nothing_ to help us. You have shown me mercy, but what about the countless others? What about the ones you couldn’t buy—didn’t buy? What about _them_?”

Jackson turned his head away from her, sighing in defeat. “You’re right,” he finally admitted. “So far I’ve done nothing, yet I am hoping to change that in the future.”

Lydia watched Jackson carefully, pursing her lips as she thought about throwing the collar and its box at him. But she knew that despite his supposed desire to change the status quo, there was little one werewolf could do to fight against the tyranny found at the center of the werewolf hierarchy. And it was unfair of her to lay it all at his feet. Well, almost. She released a small ‘hmph’ before snatching the collar from his hands. “This doesn’t mean I’ll wear it,” she added as she kept the collar tight in her clutches.

~*~

Lydia remained silent for the next week, keeping to herself as she focused on discovering a way out. She tried to think about how she could find the Hale estate, if she could even find that they still had Stiles at all. She struggled with balancing her work with her planning, spending endless nights running through calculations. She was deprived of much sleep, absolutely certain that she was hearing things when Eliza, the eldest slave of the household, answered the front door to none other than Mr. Hale.

“I will inform Mr. Whittemore of your arrival,” Eliza finished, moving out of the way of the door. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Lydia moved around the kitchen, trying to sneak peeks into the living room in order to see if it was the same Hale who purchased Stiles.

“Lydia,” Jackson called from the living room. “Could you bring us some tea?”

Lydia tried to keep her heartbeat under control, confident that Jackson somehow knew she was curious about his guest. She obediently took the tray from Eliza, who gave her a kind, reassuring smile before going back to work in the kitchen. She slowly moved into the living room, focusing on the floral design of the teapot, as she took small but confident steps.

Lydia submitted to curtsying as she was supposed to, before moving to set the tray down on the table. Her eyes flickered up at Mr. Hale, catching sight of the person sitting next to him on the couch. Her eyes locked with a pair of familiar eyes she was convinced she would never see again. _Stiles_. Her grip on the tray fumbled, causing the teapot and cups to tumble off of it and onto the floor, crashing loudly as they burst into tiny pieces.

Lydia reacted immediately, knowing that Jackson showed an infinite amount of mercy for her past behavior in private, but was uncertain how he would react in front of another werewolf. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she almost mumbled, as she moved to pick up the pieces.

“Don’t like the bone china, I see,” Jackson mused as he moved to pick up the other pieces Lydia hadn’t gotten to yet.

“I can pick it up … sir,” Lydia forced out the title as she kept her head ducked, focused on Stiles’ shoes.

Jackson’s movements paused, somewhat shocked at Lydia’s sudden formality with him. “Slow down, Lydia,” he finally started as he reached for her hand, trying to stop her from grabbing at the pieces as quickly as she was. “You’ll cut yourself.”

As soon as the words left Jackson’s mouth, Lydia instinctively snatched her hand back from a particular shard to examine it. She had a long gash running along the tip of her finger.

“As I said,” Jackson partially huff in slight amusement.

“Stiles,” Mr. Hale spoke, turning his attention to Stiles. “Why don’t you help Lydia dispose of the shards and tend to her wound?”

Stiles looked surprised by Hale’s suggestion before he obediently nodded. “Of course, Der—um, sir.” He tried to ignore the blush creeping up onto his cheek as he moved to take the tray from Lydia. He obediently waited next to Lydia, poised to follow after her.

To their credit, they both remained calm and kept up the appearance as obedient house slaves. They moved through the kitchen, disposing of the broken shards before Stiles escorted Lydia into the bathroom to use the first aid kit. The moment the door latched shut, Lydia jumped into Stiles’ arms, hugging him tightly.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Lydia hurriedly stated.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Stiles answered, his arms wrapped around her.

They took their time with the first aid kit, making their moment alone longer than it needed to be. They talked about their experiences, Lydia telling Stiles of all the things she did to incur Jackson’s wrath—an attempt to make him regret purchasing her. For his part, Stiles did not seem surprised by the revelation that Jackson didn’t punish Lydia or the other slaves.

“What about Hale?” Lydia questioned. “Is he like the rumors?” She hesitantly asked.

“Derek’s not like that,” Stiles replied in his defense.

“Derek?” Lydia questioned.

“I’m allowed to call him Derek when we’re at home,” Stiles hesitantly explained.

“When you’re at _home_?” Lydia asked in disbelief.

“It’s just Derek and me,” Stiles replied.

“He doesn’t have any other slaves?” Lydia was surprised that an Alpha of Derek’s status didn’t own more slaves than just Stiles.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “He actually brought me with him so I could see you. Jackson arranged it.”

“Oh, Stiles,” Lydia sighed. “You’re falling for an illusion. He doesn’t care about you. He wants to keep you happy so he can take even more of your power from you. Once he gets it all, he’ll dump you back there.”

“He hasn’t touched me,” Stiles quickly answered in Derek’s defense. “I have my own room. He never makes me wear this thing,” he gestured towards the collar as he spoke, “unless we are going outside the house—where the others could see.”

“He gives you freedom in the house, but a collar in public. He’s given you the illusion of freedom.”

“Lydia,” Stiles sighed her name, as if he expected to have this conversation with her.

“No, Stiles. They’re not different from the people who put us in chains. They were the ones that bid on us and won!”

“They plan on freeing us!” Stiles finally yelled, before quickly looking around in a panic, knowing that Derek and Jackson could both hear them. “I probably shouldn’t have said that loudly.”

Lydia remained silent as she processed Stiles’ words. “What?” She finally asked.

“Jackson is confident you don’t trust anyone here,” Stiles explained. “Derek spoke with me last night, asking if I would speak with you—try to reason with you to accept their help.”

“Why free us?” Lydia questioned.

“Jackson has been trying to free his family’s slaves since he inherited them, but the laws don’t allow that. The only way is to—”

“Sneak them across the border,” Lydia finally stated.

“They were at the auction that night with the purpose of keeping as many slaves from the other werewolves as possible. You and I were surprise bids. Derek gave the rest of his bids to other werewolves, ones he trusts to release them at the same time he and Jackson plan to release theirs.”

“And you believe them?”

Stiles hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I believe what I’ve seen, Lyds,” he honestly admitted. “I’ve been in public with Derek. I’ve seen the way other slaves are treated by their werewolves, and … And I know Derek’s nothing like that. He’s never raised his voice or hand to me—even when I mess up in front of other werewolves and hurt his reputation. The other humans are jealous of me because of it.”

“He doesn’t … share you?” Lydia asked, uncertain if she wanted to know. She had often heard about the ways Alphas would share their human slaves, a way to display their bragging rights of having the most pleasurable slave.

Stiles shook his head. “Every other night I, um, I sleep in the same bed as Derek,” he started to explain, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. “I smell like him enough now that werewolves believe I’m his lover. They’re already hesitant to come near me since I am a Spark, but even more careful now because they believe I’ve been claimed by an Alpha.”

“And you’re fine with people assuming that?” Lydia questioned.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s better than the alternative: actually being claimed.”

“Derek doesn’t sound bad,” Lydia hesitantly replied. “He’s also attractive. If you had to be—”

Stiles flailed his hands through the air before he placed them over Lydia’s mouth. ‘They can hear us,’ he mouthed at her as she giggled.

‘Do you think he’s attractive,’ Lydia mouthed back.

Stiles blushed before reluctantly nodding. He tried to silence her as she started to laugh.

It was reminiscent of old times, and Lydia couldn’t remember a moment she was happier since before the entire slave trade act had been passed.

~*~

Lydia and Stiles were laughing as they reminisced about their time spent in their early teenage years strolling around the city’s blocks. Lydia pointed out different places, Stiles often quipping back about the dates they ditched there or the photos they took while goofing around.

They were both thankful that Jackson and Derek had started to spend an increasing amount of time together, bringing them along to allow them to be together. Lydia was still suspicious towards Jackson’s motives, however she was thankful to have her brother spending time with her.

Jackson’s eyes begun to linger on Lydia longer than he had normally dared to allow them. He watched the way she blossomed over the past few days, accepting that he wasn’t trying to enforce a power dynamic over her. He kept his distance, allowing her time with Stiles in order to gain her trust before moving forward with their plans to free as many of their slaves as possible.

“I don’t think I thanked you for letting Stiles visit,” Jackson stated as he remained next to Derek, both of them on one side of the limo as they observed the twins laughing on the other end. They both made sure to keep their voices low and quiet enough that only they could hear one another.

“He wanted to see his sister since they were separated,” Derek replied, continuing to act as if he was focusing on looking out the window by his side.

“So it wasn’t an attempt to warm his affections towards you?” Jackson asked as he slightly turned his head to look at Derek.

“I’m not the one whose eyes linger longer than necessary when keeping an eye on their slave,” Derek calmly countered.

Jackson released a soft chuckle, turning his head to look out of his own window. “She’s my slave, and it’s perfectly acceptable to look at them like that.”

“How you look at her is not how a werewolf looks at their human slave. You look at her with affection, not lust,” Derek corrected him. “An affection that you can never reveal to her. You’re in a position of power over her. Don’t allow her smiles at being reunited with her brother fool you into thinking you are welcomed.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” Jackson asked. “You risk a great deal by bringing him out in public. He’s one of the last known Sparks—other Alphas would kill to have him. Yet you leave him unmarked and unclaimed, regardless of the sophisticated collar you put around his neck.” He paused when he caught Derek’s eyes flickering over to the collar wrapped around Stiles’ slender neck.

The black leather of the collar clashed with the paleness of Stiles’ skin, making it stand out more than most collars normally would. For other werewolves it was a symbol of Derek’s ownership over Stiles, and it was a primal pride that flickered in Derek’s eyes as they flashed crimson. And Derek hated how his wolf loved the feeling.

“Even with your scent lingering on him,” Jackson continued. “He still smells as unmarked as the day you purchased him. Other Alphas are bound to notice. And then what are you going to do if one of them challenges you over him?”

“That won’t happen,” Derek spoke louder than he intended as he looked at Jackson.

They both remained silent as the twins turned to look at them. Stiles arched his eyebrow in question as he tried to read the two werewolves. Lydia pursed her lips as she looked between the two men, noting how they leaned away from one another.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

~*~

Derek hated that Jackson was correct.

It was meant to be the last public outing Jackson and Derek intended to bring Stiles and Lydia to, confident that they had flaunted their ‘new purchases’ enough. It had been easy to warn away other werewolves from both humans, however, neither werewolf thought to take precautions when it came to the jealousies of other human slaves.

Derek was conversing with several other Alphas when he heard a commotion coming from the group of humans. He quickly moved forward to investigate, not surprised to find Jackson standing between Lydia and another woman.

Jackson held a placating hand up at the other slave, his back to Lydia as he created a wall between her and the threat.

“She attacked me,” Lydia stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not helping,” Jackson mumbled back.

“She sat in my seat,” the woman snapped back.

“I thought it was my brother’s,” Lydia snapped with equal passion.

“Lydia,” Jackson spoke her name with authority. “I will handle this.” He turned his head to look at her, a faint ‘please’ crossing his lips as he caught her gaze.

Lydia sighed, turning her sight towards the ground as she remained silent.

“Lydia isn’t accustomed to the rules yet,” Jackson replied. “However, if you had a problem with my slave, the appropriate process is to contact your Alpha first.”

“Jackson,” Derek’s voice cut through his statement, causing the Beta to look at him. He knew Jackson understood his expression to mean ‘leave it alone’ the minute he turned to move Lydia away from the other humans.

“Is something wrong, Julia?” another female voice questioned.

Derek winced, knowing there was no avoiding an altercation now that Kali was involved.

“A Beta’s slave tried to take my status, mistress,” Julia immediately replied, not waiting to tattle.

Derek immediately moved his arm to encircle around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in close. He was relieved when Stiles automatically tucked himself into his side, the boy fully understanding that something bad was about to happen.

“She wasn’t trying to take your slave’s status, Alpha Kali,” Jackson started.

Kali turned her attention towards Jackson, moving forward as she evaluated Jackson’s appearance.

Jackson refrained from recoiling away from her touch when she ran her fingertips across his cheek. He turned his head as she slowly dug her claws into his skin, leaving gashes in the wake of her nails.

“Kali,” Derek finally spoke, using his status as an Alpha to turn her attentions away from Jackson.

“Hale,” Kali greeted him, retracting her claws from Jackson as she watched him back away with Lydia.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Derek stated with authority.

“Why is your little toy giving his seat up to your Beta’s slave?” Kali challenged, refusing to budge on her stance as she moved closer to Derek.

“As an Alpha’s slave, Stiles can move from his seat at any time—”

“Can move from his seat, but why is he giving it up to another? Especially a Beta’s slave,” Kali restated. It was a challenge for Derek to either explain his slave’s reasoning, or punish him.

“He’s allowing his sister to use his seat since he’s having a hard time sitting after last night,” Derek commented.

Stiles pressed into Derek’s side, hiding himself from the looks all the other werewolves were suddenly giving him.

“Strange you imply that, Hale,” Kali started. “When he smells as untouched by you as he did the night of the auction.”

Derek knew this was from Kali’s anger over being outbid that night. He knew that the moment she got her hands on Stiles, she would have used and abused him before draining his Spark away. It was the entire reason Derek put such an insane bid on Stiles that night. It was easy for the other werewolves to write off Derek’s bid as him having a desire to own something untouched and rare.

“I never said he was having a hard time sitting from me,” Derek corrected her in a low, quiet tone.

~*~

Lydia ran her hands over Stiles’ back, gently soothing him as he silently cried. She regretted not knowing the protocols by heart, realizing that she caused the altercation to happen with the other Alpha’s slave. She never thought that Stiles would get in trouble for her mistake. And she never thought that Derek would humiliate Stiles in order to defuse the situation.

Lydia waited until Stiles grew quiet, bending down to see that he was asleep. She softly smiled before slipping off of the bed, gently resting his head against her pillow. She quietly snuck out of the room, heading down stairs to get herself something to drink. She paused when she heard hushed voices down stairs.

“You can’t leave him here,” Jackson snapped.

“I won’t force him to come with me,” Derek sternly replied.

“Derek, what you did—”

“I humiliated him in front of a crowd of twisted ego maniacs,” Derek harshly stated.

“You had to do something,” Jackson answered. “You couldn’t have fought all of the Alphas there. Kali was baiting you into admitting that you didn’t have control over him.”

“I could have told her to fuck off,” Derek harshly replied.

A silence suddenly grew between the two of them. Lydia pondered whether she should risk moving to go back to her room, or risk being caught eavesdropping.

“They deserve better,” Derek suddenly sighed.

“That’s why we’re doing this,” Jackson answered.

“Perhaps we deserve to be the slaves. Treated like the animals we are,” Derek partially mused.

There was a pregnant pause before Jackson spoke. “You like him.”

“You like Lydia,” Derek replied.

“But you don’t like anyone,” Jackson ignored Derek. “You’re not thinking—”

“Don’t even think of finishing that thought,” Derek warned. “He’s a human, currently my slave. Lydia was right when she said that we are no better than the people that put her in chains. We’re posing as slave owners as we make plans to release them.”

“They’ll be free tomorrow,” Jackson commented.

“Doesn’t change that they were at our mercy,” Derek replied.

“You’re pissed about all of this because Stiles is upset,” Jackson commented.

“Wouldn’t you be pissed if you just humiliated someone in public?” Derek questioned.

“Derek, you made up an embarrassing story—”

“It wasn’t made up,” Derek’s voice was strained as he spoke.

“What?” Jackson questioned.

“I bent the truth. Stiles isn’t the greatest liar—a human can tell he is lying. It would be child’s play for a werewolf to detect his lie,” Derek explained. “The other night, Stiles thought he was in the house alone. He didn’t realize I returned from my run early. He …” He cleared his throat before he continued. “He was more vocal than he thought he was being, and I heard him call out my name.”

Jackson released a heavy sigh. “He didn’t know you heard him until tonight,” he concluded.

“I should have just punched Kali in the face and told her to keep her sex toy in line,” Derek harshly sighed.

“I should have defused the situation before it came to that,” Jackson countered. “I’ve been trying to subdue Lydia’s anger as best I can, but she just thinks I have ulterior motives every time. She probably didn’t read the rule book because I was the one that gave it to her.”

Lydia frowned, feeling guilty that Jackson was correct in his assumptions.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Derek concluded. “They’ll both be free of us by tomorrow night.”

“And that’s it?” Jackson asked.

“It has to be,” Derek replied.

Lydia took that as her cue to leave, already feeling wrong by listening in on them. Some part of her knew that she was going to miss them, a small fondness growing out of the kindness they were showing.

~*~

Lydia and Stiles were amazed by the amount of other slaves being gathered by the border. They had expected maybe three or four other werewolves wishing to free their slaves, but there were easily a few dozen who had shown in the past twenty minutes. The slaves’ numbers were growing by the second. They watched as the other slaves mingled among themselves, however they both remained by Jackson’s side.

Lydia turned to look at Stiles as he shuffled from side to side, turning his head to scan the crowd. “I don’t know if he’s coming,” she finally stated.

“If what you heard last night is true, he wasn’t being cruel about it,” Stiles replied. “He may even—”

“He may what, Stiles?” Lydia asked as she forced her brother to look at her. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Leaving our werewolf masters behind.”

“I know, but—” Stiles began to protest.

“But nothing,” Lydia sternly stated. “You’ve spent the past year with him, and only him. He’s shown you luxuries while you’ve heard nightmare stories of how you could be treated. He is not a knight in shining armor, Stiles.”

Stiles turned his attention away from Lydia. “It’s not like that, Lydia,” he softly argued. “Am I physically attracted to him? Of course, just look at the guy. But there was something about getting to know him that was just … It was different than anything I’ve ever experienced with anyone else.”

“We were their slaves, Stiles,” Lydia countered.

“You’re so adamant to go against feeling anything but contempt for them,” Stiles suddenly snapped. “Are you that afraid that you might feel something towards Jackson that you want to hide it?”

“Them freeing us isn’t doing anything nice. It’s doing the right thing,” Lydia replied.

“Lydia, they didn’t purchase us to use us as objects. They did it to keep us from being used as objects,” Stiles explained. “When are you going to see that?”

“When are you going to see that we are never going to see them again?” Lydia snapped.

“I can still say goodbye,” Stiles defiantly stated.

“Stiles, this isn’t some romance novel where everything is going to work out okay. This isn’t going to make some quirky story at our weddings—” Lydia started, only to be cut off when Stiles pushed past her. She turned to go after him, halting when she saw that Stiles was walking towards none other than Derek Hale.

Derek was standing amongst the many slaves, even speaking with several of them—which was strange to Lydia, because according to Stiles, Derek owned no other slaves than Stiles. He was slightly lounging against one of the many trees before his vision suddenly flickered over to Stiles’ approaching figure. A small smile slipped onto his lips before he quickly caught himself, placing his lips into a firm line before nodding a greeting to Stiles.

Lydia watched from a distance as Stiles talked to Derek. She noticed the way Derek turned his body towards Stiles’, excusing them from the other humans as they moved to speak in a more secluded area. She caught how Derek placed his arm around Stiles’ back to steer him through the crowd before he retracted his arm. She furrowed her eyebrows, confused at how distant Derek was suddenly acting with Stiles. The countless times she had observed it, Derek never shied away from placing an arm around Stiles. She began to think of how different Derek had acted with Stiles in public versus private. Yet today, he acted much more reserved than he had in private. Perhaps Stiles was right, and Derek did feel something. And perhaps he was doing the right thing by not acting on it.

“Lydia,” Jackson called her name as he approached her.

“Yes?” Lydia asked as she turned her attention from Stiles and Derek to look at Jackson.

“I know I don’t deserve to ask anything of you,” Jackson began. “But, could you watch after Eliza?”

Lydia peered around Jackson to catch sight of Eliza sitting against a giant rock as she rested.

“I know everyone will be going their own paces until you reach the border patrols there and are picked up,” Jackson explained. “But she is older than a lot of the other humans, and I would like to know she’s not forgotten.”

Lydia looked back at Jackson, catching the vulnerability in his eyes for the first time. Over the year she spent at the Whittemore estate, she never once saw how powerless Jackson actually looked. He was a Beta werewolf that inherited his family estate—the second largest only to the Hale estate—and he was fighting not only werewolves but skeptical humans in order to garner freedom from slavery. But he was only one werewolf. She had overheard countless times when he discussed this day with other werewolves. He and Derek had used their own influences to get other werewolves to follow their example. All because of their simple understanding that human slavery was wrong.

Lydia smiled at Jackson, allowing him—for the first time ever—to be on the receiving end of one of her genuinely happy smiles. “Of course I will look after her.”

Jackson was shocked that Lydia agreed so willingly to his request. He was even more shocked—and a little frightened—when Lydia smiled at him. He shook his head, an attempt to get himself back to thinking about what he needed to tell her.

“Also, here,” Jackson started as he held out his hand.

Lydia arched her eyebrow as she looked at Jackson’s closed hand. She opened her own hand to allow him to drop whatever he had in her open palm.

“What’s this?” Lydia asked as she held up the object, discovering that it was a key.

“It’s for the front door of the house,” Jackson somewhat sheepishly explained.

Lydia’s mouth formed in a silent ‘o’ shape as she understood how symbolic the key actually was. It was the physical embodiment of Jackson allowing her to be his equal, to display trust. “You know, it’s dangerous to give a slave a key to your house,” she joked.

Jackson released a small chuckle. “You’re not a slave, Lydia. You never were.”

Lydia looked up at him in surprise.

“I think that’s what so many of you humans have trouble with,” Jackson stated. “You become convinced that you belong as a slave, when in reality we’re equals. Although, Derek tends to believe that you’re better than us.”

“Maybe that’s why Stiles likes him,” Lydia sighed, her eyes drifting over to Stiles and Derek once more.

“Doesn’t matter how much he likes Stiles,” Jackson almost sighed as his eyes drifted over to Derek and Stiles. “Or how much Stiles likes him. Derek would never let it happen.”

“Why?” Lydia curiously asked, her hand tightening around the key as Stiles turned his gaze to stare at the ground as Derek spoke.

Stiles furiously shook his head to whatever Derek said. He was protesting it, using his shirtsleeve to wipe the tears away from his eyes. Derek closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering Stiles.

“Because until this is over, until the slave trade is completely extinct, werewolves will always hold a power over humans,” Jackson explained. “It’s been hard to remember that line, this past year.”

Lydia turned to look at Jackson, cocking her head to the side as she inspected his features.

“Getting to know you and your brother has been eye opening,” Jackson stated. “It’s helped change me.”

“For the better, I hope,” Lydia quietly mused.

“I think so,” Jackson replied with a small smile.

Lydia realized that they were almost completely alone, the other werewolves having released their slaves, the humans moving as quickly as they could through the trees.

“You have a thirty minute window of opportunity to make it to the east patrols,” Jackson explained, scanning the crowd. “We’ve made arrangements to guarantee that.”

Lydia nodded, turning her attention back to Stiles. She was surprised when she saw Stiles reluctantly nodding, pushing himself away from Derek. “Will I … see you again?” She slowly asked as she looked back at Jackson.

Jackson hesitated, turning his own gaze back to Lydia, surprised by her question. “I doubt it,” he finally answered. “But that’s what this whole day is about.”

“Not seeing you again?” Lydia questioned.

“Freeing you from us,” Jackson clarified.

Lydia gave a small nod, looking up in shock and surprise when she caught a glimpse of Stiles pulling Derek into a kiss.

“I didn’t think he’d do it,” Jackson mumbled under his breath when he noticed what Lydia was staring at.

Stiles pulled back from Derek, his hands still twisted in the lapels of Derek’s leather jacket as he released an unsteady sigh. He closed his eyes when Derek pressed their foreheads together. He nodded to whatever Derek whispered to him before he finally pushed himself away, turning to leave Derek behind.

Stiles quietly rejoined Lydia, taking his place by her side. He reluctantly looked up, noticing that Derek was no longer there; having vanished completely from sight the moment Stiles released him.

“He seemed unwilling to let you go,” Lydia finally broke the silence.

“Don’t,” Stiles almost begged. “I walked away from him like you said.”

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Stiles,” Lydia started.

“I know,” Stiles answered, eyes still glued to the ground.

“We may be able to see him again,” Lydia offered.

“Yeah,” Stiles hopelessly stated. “If the other Alphas don’t try to kill him for starting the ‘Slave Rebellion,’ and if he manages to somehow find me all the way across the country.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia replied. “He’s a better man than I gave him credit for.”

Stiles looked up at Lydia, a small smile crossing his lips as he realized she was being honest.

They waited for Eliza, watching as she hugged Jackson goodbye, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek before parting.

Lydia hesitated, letting Stiles take Eliza’s hand as they started to move through the woods, following the others. Her eyes lingered on Jackson before she released an aggravated sigh. She marched over to Jackson, key still clutched tightly in her hand.

“You’re not going to punch me, are you?” Jackson asked when he noticed Lydia was headed straight at him.

“I’d only hurt my hand,” Lydia quipped back. And suddenly, she was standing in front of him, bringing her hands up hold his cheeks—holding his face in place as she placed a kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” she merely whispered against his lips as she pulled back from him.

Jackson was baffled, shocked into silence without knowing how to react. “For what?” he finally managed to ask.

“For being a good person,” Lydia replied. She nodded, more to herself than to anyone else. “I’ll see you around.”

Jackson nodded, letting her out of his reach as she moved to join Stiles and Eliza. He watched after them, surprised how right it felt to watch them go and how hurtful it felt to lose them.

It wasn’t until they were well into the woods, almost to the patrols that Eliza broke the silence.

“I don’t know what you did to him,” Eliza suddenly stated as she held onto Lydia’s arm.

“Excuse me?” Lydia asked, uncertain what Eliza meant.

“I raised that boy since he was little,” Eliza started. “He was spoiled rotten by his parents—given everything he’s ever wanted and then some.” She released a small huff of laughter. “The Whittemores thought they could buy love for Jackson. I think that’s why he originally wanted nothing to do with us when he inherited everything from his parents.”

Lydia was somewhat confused. Jackson was a little selfish when it came to having to have top of the line everything, but he appeared much less self absorbed than she originally thought.

“Then you up and come along, changed the whole dynamic,” Eliza explained. “I think you’re the first person to ever tell him no—first one to stand up to his requests.”

“I thought Jackson didn’t demand things,” Lydia commented.

“Oh, he never did,” Eliza clarified. “His requests were just always in attempts to please society and the laws they loved to use in order to stroke their own ego. You just happen to be the first one of us to challenge those ideas. I think you scared him into challenging them himself.”

“He’s a good man,” Lydia finally admitted. “He would have found a way to make change.”

“He did,” Eliza stated. “He found you.”

~*~

Jackson sighed, pushing open the front door with what strength he had left. The day was long and difficult, another round of politics being debated and slandered now that the human slave trade was officially abolished. It had taken almost a year after the uprising ended for a stabilized government to be reinstated.

Jackson remained adamant in his statement that he wasn’t a politician, merely an appealing poster child for the cause. He was able to deflect a lot of the pressure towards Derek, who was the better poster child—actually capable of being the cause’s leader.

Jackson was about head up the stairs when he caught a familiar scent. It was faint, but still there— _meadow strawberries_. It had been more than five years since he smelled that scent, its existence constantly haunting his senses since he first smelled it. His head snapped to attention as he moved into the living room, catching sight of a teapot and two cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. He stared at the set in confusion, even further shocked when a familiar figure walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Lydia,” Jackson almost whispered her name in disbelief.

Lydia turned, her strawberry blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she moved her attention from the tea set to Jackson.

“You’re home,” Lydia stated as she stood up straight. “I can’t remember if you liked your tea with sugar or not.” She let a small smile fall over her lips as Jackson stared at her in disbelief.

“What are you—how did you—”

“You gave me a key,” Lydia replied, holding up the key in question. “Don’t tell me you give a key to every girl you free from slavery,” she partially scowled. “Because if it was just a line, that’s going to cost you.”

Jackson smiled, completely blown away by it all—by Lydia. “You came back,” he simply stated.

Lydia gave a noncommittal shrug. “My brother was missing Derek. I decided to let them have their moment.”

“We don’t get a moment?” Jackson asked in the same noncommittal way.

“I think we can have a little bit more than a moment,” Lydia replied.

And, as it turned out, Lydia was wrong—it did make for a kind of quirky story at their weddings.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


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